


a lot like hurting

by mywordsflyup



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Cats, Friendship, Gen, finding common ground, what to do when your new cat hates you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:23:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He heals the claw marks on his hand and thinks about cat names.</i>
</p><p>Anders' new cat hates him. Help comes from an unexpected source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a lot like hurting

The cat is scrappy, black and absolutely filthy. And Anders is in love from the very first second. 

She is a scrawny thing, malnourished close to the point of starvation. With half of one ear missing and a useless broken tail, she makes for a pitiful sight. But when all coaxing and baiting fails and Anders finally resorts to catching her with a daring leap and an old flour bag, she has enough energy left to scratch him across the nose and to make enough noise for an animal thrice her size. 

Back at the clinic, he puts her under with a simple spell and begins his work. Most of the bite marks and cuts are easy enough to clean and heal but in the end he has to amputate half her tail. She does not like it. Or perhaps she just does not like him. Either way, she scratches him again as soon as she wakes up and then retreats into a corner of the room to sulk. 

He heals the claw marks on his hand and thinks about cat names. 

 

She only comes to him when he puts out food and eyes him with suspicion the whole time while she eats. Afterwards she slinks back into the shadows of Darktown. Well-fed and healed, she is strong enough to take on the biggest rats and meanest kids. People seem to know that she belongs to Anders, even if she doesn’t know it herself, and leave her be. Most of them would be hesitant to try to eat something so mean-spirited anyway. 

The cat loves Hawke, but then again, everyone always does. Anders tries not to feel betrayed when she comes to Hawke instead of him and even lets herself be scratched behind what’s left of her ears. 

“She is feisty,” Hawke says. “I like them feisty.”

“You’re just saying that because she hasn’t tried to bite you yet.” Anders pounds the herbs in his mortar with a little bit more force than necessary. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I think she likes me.” Hawke runs a finger under the cat’s delicate head and down her bony chest. 

And the beast even has the audacity to purr.

 

At night, Anders sometimes sees her eyes reflect brightly in the darkness. When she sleeps in the Clinic, she does it on a spot on the shelves, as far away from him as she can possibly get. Or she leaves and returns in the early morning hours, usually adorned with a few new cuts and scratches. 

Anders lies awake and thinks about how Ser Pounce would roll up into a ball next to his head at Vigil’s Keep and about how he would softly purr all through the night. He is not lonely. How could he be, with Justice humming reassuringly in the back of his mind? But it’s not the same and he cannot stop comparing. 

 

Isabela is equally enamored as Hawke when she comes to visit Anders at the clinic. He tries to tell her that he will not make her a potion to help with hangovers but she doesn’t even listen. She is too preoccupied with the little bundle of bones and fur that has jumped into her lap as soon as she sat down. 

“Well, isn’t this just the sweetest thing?” she coos and lets the cat sniff her beringed fingers. “And she looks like a proper fighter as well. Only half a tail. How fearsome!” 

“Someone probably stepped on it,” Anders says and folds his arms. “But now she bites me every time I try to check on the wound.” 

As if to emphasize his point, the cat gives him the stink-eye and turns around in Isabela’s lap. 

“It looks like it healed well enough,” Isabela says and almost sounds a bit apologetic. “A little worse for wear but what’s pirate without a few scars, right?” She runs her fingers through the soft fur and the cat rubs her head against her knuckles. 

Anders steps closer and the cat is out of Isabela’s lap faster than lightning. She’s nothing but a hiss and a blur of black as she races through underneath the cots and out the open door. 

“She really doesn’t like you,” Isabela says and picks some cat hair off her white tunic. “And here I thought I remembered you being able to charm a lady’s socks off if you wanted.” She winks at him and he answers with a weary smile. 

“Perhaps I have lost my touch.” 

Isabela jumps off the cot and pats his cheek. “She will come around in time.” 

 

He leaves the cat alone after that. Only puts out the food and makes sure she is not seriously hurt whenever she has been running around Darktown. He does not mean to scare her further because that is what he sees at the core of her anger. He has seen it before, this fear turned rage - in more lethal forms than a scratching cat. 

She keeps eyeing him suspiciously as if she is waiting for him to make his move.

 

At least she has the decency not to crawl all over Fenris. She just slinks around his legs once or twice before jumping onto a shelf on the wall and then watches him from the safe distance. It is still more affection than she has ever shown to Anders and it’s starting to get more and more difficult not to feel bitter about it. 

Fenris comes to him with a head wound, which either means Hawke sent him or he tried cleaning it himself with some sort of alcoholic beverage until it festered and got too bad to ignore. Judging by the state of the wound, it's the latter. 

Anders pulls different herbs and cloth from the cupboards while Fenris eyes the cat. 

"I didn't know you had a new pet," he says and it sounds almost civil. 

"She's less of a pet and more of a stray that eats my food and assaults me from time to time." 

“In that case, I like her already,” Fenris says but there is no real bite behind it. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she took a liking to you as well,” Anders says and steps closer to inspect the wound. “She seems to do that. With everyone but me.” 

“Even though you’re the one who feeds her? Cruel.” 

Anders shrugs and starts working. It’s an ugly cut above Fenris’ eyebrow, made worse through neglect. 

“You know,” Fenris says, quietly and without meeting his eyes, “sometimes it’s those we are trying to help that hate us the most. That will never forgive us for the choices we made in order to keep them safe.” It’s more than he has ever said to Anders without including an insult and Anders does not quite know what to do with it. 

There is a bitterness in Fenris’ expression that goes beyond what he is used to from the elf. Anders wasn’t there when Fenris went to meet his sister and walked into a trap instead. But he has heard the stories. 

“I really just want to help,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

Fenris flinches as Anders feels the swelling around the cut with careful fingers. “Sometimes to them, helping feels a lot like hurting.”

 

The cat still won’t let him touch her and she still eyes him like he might kick her every time she gulps down the food he leaves out for her. But one morning he almost steps into the bloody body of a rat she left in front of his cot. And sometimes he thinks he can hear her breathing at night, close to him but always gone in the morning - safe for a few black hairs on the pillow next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


End file.
